"I've loved and lost, I crossed
the line.
No regrets, I'd do it all again.
Forever my heart, forever I am...."

-Miriam Stockley, "Miriam"

Chapter One

They left the training center for
the cafeteria, and it took no longer than halfway through dinner for consternation
and worry on Obi-Wan's part to set in. Seated across from her Master, who
had once more wrapped dignity and distance about himself, Obi-Wan tried to
engage Qui-Gon in conversation -- once -- asking what time he wanted to practice
the next day.

"Have you forgotten the Council
meeting?" Qui-Gon asked tiredly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose -- a sure
sign that a headache had started behind his eyes. "Let us see to the Council
first, Padawan. Then we'll worry about your practice."

[He doesn't sound like he's looking
forward to either one,] she thought, her heart falling into his feet. [It's
been a long day; perhaps he's just tired.]

[So he kissed me,] Obi-Wan argued
with the voice. [It's no big deal. People kiss people all of the time.]

[Masters do not kiss their Padawans
the way your Master kissed you back there. You probably enjoyed it more than
he did, since he was probably just trying to teach you another lesson. *You're*
the one who wrapped your arm around his neck in a stranglehold and wouldn't
let go. How's a Jedi Master supposed to gracefully disentangle himself from
that? He probably just meant to give you a nice, sweet, innocent kiss. Whose
body turned it into something else, huh? ]

Color suffused Obi-Wan's face at
the memory.

[There, there...] the voice continued
sarcastically. [He's a grown man. He knows that since you're in a woman's
body, you're going to react like a woman. You can't help yourself.]

[I caught that part, thanks,] Obi-Wan
growled, stirring her soup around and around, but not eating it.

[Good. I'm sure he'd hate to have
to repeat the lesson.]

Inexplicably, Obi-Wan felt depressed
at the thought. [Why should it depress me?] he argued with himself. [I mean,
it's not as if I *want* him to kiss me, or to want me... is it?]

[Don't you?]

[No! Absolutely not! I mean... Yeah,
he's the most attractive man I've ever met, the most honorable, noble human
being in this galaxy, but I've never wanted to make love to him. He's been
my father and mentor, and my friend. Except for what happened back there today,
he's never given me the slightest hint that he feels anything for me other
than what a Master feels for his apprentice.]

[He loves you, you know?] The voice
turned soothing.

[Of *course* he loves me. Like a
son... er, a daughter now, I guess. He just doesn't love me... that way. He
was just trying to show me how complete my transition has been from one sex
to the other.]

Feeling very lost and alone for
reasons she didn't understand and had no wish to examine any further in such
a public place, Obi-Wan tried to finish her dinner and failed miserably. She
knew that there was no solution to that, just as there were no solutions to
the absolute mess her life had become.

* * *

[Of all the stupid, short-sighted,
things for me to have done!] Qui-Gon berated himself, shifting uneasily in
his chair and feeling the pounding in his head match the pounding in his groin.
[Did I have to try to seduce Obi-Wan? What's she going to think of a Master
who one minute is trying to beat her into submission, and the next... She
is so confused now, the last thing she needs is an old man's desire added
to her turbulent emotions.]

Even as he stole a glance at his
Padawan, Qui-Gon dipped deeper into depression. [Look at her - she can't even
eat, I've upset her so much.]

Slowly, she pulled her fingers out
from under Qui-Gon's, didn't look up to meet his searching gaze. "I guess
I'm just not hungry. I'm sorry, Master. I'm not very good company right now.
If you will excuse me, I think I'll just go back to our quarters and meditate?"

"As you wish," Qui-Gon murmured.
Almost before the words were past her lips, Obi-Wan had taken her tray and
was leaving the table. In a matter of seconds, she was all but running out
of the cafeteria.

* * *

Returning to the rooms he shared
with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had himself once more under control. His arousal was
now a steady, bearable presence as opposed to something screaming for attention.

His apprentice was deep in meditation
in the far corner of the room. Moving quietly about the common area, the Jedi
Master kept the lights low and gathered his databook to review his report
on Sarsden one last time. The next morning, he would hand it over to the archivist.
Obi-Wan's transformation would then become part of the Jedi's permanent database,
and common knowledge within the Temple.

[I wish it were otherwise,] Qui-Gon
thought wryly, knowing how tongues would wag once the story was allowed to
be told beyond the Council Tower. Settling onto the low couch across from
Obi-Wan, he shielded his thoughts so as not to intrude upon his apprentice's
mental journey.

Only a few minutes later, he was
satisfied that this version of the report was the final one. Clicking closed
the databook after preparing the disk, Qui-Gon set it aside only to realize
what a golden opportunity had been handed him in this moment: he was free
to study -- for the first time and at complete liberty, without guilt or concern
whether Obi-Wan might consider it rude to catch him staring -- the image of
what she had become.

The young woman sat quietly, peaceably,
with her head tilted slightly to the left and her small hands cradled, one
inside the other -- instinct within reason -- in her lap. The head tilt was
a flaw -- one Obi-Wan had had for as long as Qui-Gon had known him. All of
the correction in the world hadn't cured him of that, and Qui-Gon knew that
it never would, now.

"I can't *hear* if I don't hold
my head this way," Obi-Wan had protested, years ago. "That's where the doorway
to the Force is in my mind."

After trying to for months to change
it, an exasperated Qui-Gon had accepted it, and then found it endearing. [How
can Obi-Wan be so perfect in most technique, yet lacking in one so very elementary
principle?]

[Because the Force made him that
way,] Qui-Gon had come to realize. [And that imperfection makes him all the
more precious to me.]

Becoming precious to him anew was
the body he saw before him; small and lithe as it was, with slender, muscular
legs folded beneath it. Gone were the obvious, rippling muscles Qui-Gon had
carefully helped Obi-Wan develop in endless sessions over the years. The shadows
cast by the dim track lighting now caressed pale, perfect skin between Obi-Wan's
high breasts, and Qui-Gon longed to share space with those shadows, to follow
the line of their caress, to push back the Padawan tunic and explore new territory.

Her spiky auburn hair looked stiff
and unyielding, yet Qui-Gon knew from cutting that hair that it was not. His
fingers itched to be there, even as his lips wanted to nuzzle Obi-Wan's small
ears, tug on the Padawan braid and pull her closer to him, to learn every
inch of her new curves, to learn the small noises of passion that she would
make when he made love to her.

Even as the thought occurred to
his Master, Obi-Wan ended her meditation. Straightening her head, she opened
her eyes and stared at Qui-Gon, who all but jumped. As it was, the Master
folded his hands before his crotch, as though to shield himself from view.

[That's totally unnecessary,] Qui-Gon
reminded himself, even as he did it. [The tunics hide everything.] Still taking
some sort of psychological, if not actual, satisfaction from the gesture,
he didn't remove his hands, but prayed that his mental shielding was working
as well.

"Thank you, Master" came the low,
sultry tones that had always been so much a part Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon had always found his Padawan's
voice to be calming. Not so, any longer. Responding to the warm, provocative
tones, his aching arousal intensified to hear that voice now. Closing his
eyes, he bowed his head for a moment, seeking control and distance. "For what
are you thanking me, my Padawan?"

Rising from the meditation pad,
Obi-Wan stretched as tall as she could, clawing for the ceiling and driving
the kinks out of her back and legs. Tensing his own muscles in sympathetic
response, Qui-Gon wanted to arch with her and arch against her, wanted to
slide his hands possessively down his Padawan's slender torso, yank her close,
and show Obi-Wan know how much he needed her.

[Not a good idea, Jedi.]

"Thank you for suggesting that I
meditate."

Obi-Wan's smile did strange things
to Qui-Gon's stomach; her open, trusting gaze was even worse. Padding across
the room, she unclasped her belt and tossed it into her sleep-room. "You were
right: I've gotten a few ideas I'd like to try tomorrow."

"Good."

Obi-Wan's tunics followed her belt.
Even as Qui-Gon realized that his apprentice was in the process stripping
for bed as he watched, he also realized that Obi-Wan was doing as she'd had
always done. There had never been any sort of embarrassment or modesty between
the two of them: as men, they knew what each other looked like. The casualness
of the locker room had been extended into their home: who would care if they
traipsed around in the nude?

Obi-Wan had always enjoyed meditating
naked, enjoyed letting Coruscant's sun warm and caress him every morning.
Their private garden offered endless opportunities to enjoy the freedom that
total nudity allowed: Qui-Gon had always suspected that if Obi-Wan could have
practiced battle moves in the nude, he would have done so, so comfortable
was he. In any case, the apprentice had often pursued his kata in the same
natural, hedonistic state.

On occasion, Qui-Gon had joined
him, when his control had been firmly in place and he had felt able to control
his wayward body. Even if he'd occasionally become obviously aroused around
his Padawan, because of the enthusiasm of youth and Obi-Wan's strong sex drive,
the younger man had usually beaten Qui-Gon to it, standing firm and proud
in the morning light, even as he concentrated on getting some position or
other right within the kata. It had never been an issue until Qui-Gon had
realized how beautiful his Padawan was, until the Master had recognized that
he wanted more than to simply look at Obi-Wan, and so had begun retiring to
his rooms before bed-time struck.

No such luck, now. Disappearing
momentarily to discard her leggings, Obi-Wan returned to the common room.
Folding her arms and leaning naked against the doorframe in a position Qui-Gon
recognized from months gone by, she asked, "Do you think it would be all right
if I installed two crystals into my lightsaber tomorrow? I'd like to experiment
with different blade lengths if you don't mind?"

[She's perfect,] Qui-Gon thought,
his gaze raking Obi-Wan's body and finding himself stiffening abruptly and
painfully to raging, complete erection. Somehow, he managed to reply in a
voice that did not sound strangled.

"That would be fine, Obi-Wan."

Crossing the room, Obi-Wan knelt
beside her Master and gathered a few papers from the end table beside the
couch. "I made a few notes earlier of some new designs. What do you think?"

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon breathed, half-plea,
half-command. Slowly, as if in slow motion, as if he were watching himself
do it, Qui-Gon leaned over and cupped one of Obi-Wan's breasts in his hand.
"You are far more of a temptation in your nakedness now than you ever were
before. Please, put on some clothes?"

Obi-Wan gasped as Qui-Gon's calloused
thumb firmly rubbed her nipple. Responding quickly to his touch, the bud warmed
and rose, beckoning him on. The Master was more than happy to oblige. Obi-Wan
pushed harder against his hand; whether such encouragement was intentional,
Qui-Gon didn't know. Didn't care.

Obi-Wan's green eyes were stormy;
fury and need battled within. Her cheeks were stained in embarrassment. "I've
walked around here naked for years, Master. You've never cared before."

Surging to her feet, she crossed
the room with the same agile grace she'd had as a male. Hauling back on the
closet door, she grabbed her old cloak from its place beside Qui-Gon's.

"You were never a woman, before,
my Padawan."

Shoving into the cloak, she wrapped
it about herself before whirling and staring across the room at the Master.
"I'm sorry that I've upset you by running around naked, Master. It won't happen
again."

"I'm going to bed." All but flying
into her sleep-room, Obi-Wan slid the door closed behind her.

Left alone, Qui-Gon bowed his head
in his hands. [I should not have done that. I did not mean to embarrass or
upset her.] Those were not reactions he would have expected from Obi-Wan,
not in a million years. [What is wrong with her?]

[Foolish question. What *isn't*
wrong with her now? What does she feel is right with her now? And what did
I expect? That she would want my touch, even after she let me kiss her? Ridiculous.
She hurts, and I have hurt her more. But... it was necessary to tell her.
Was it also necessary to touch her the way I did? I let my emotions, my desire
cloud the issue. Obi-Wan does not understand, and I cannot expect her to.
For that, I am sorry.]

In the end, Qui-Gon retreated to
his own meditation mat and tried to apply lifelong inner calming techniques
in an attempt to sort out his feelings of confusion and remorse. An hour later,
when that meditation was completed but inner peace was still elusive, Qui-Gon
dared to open the door to Obi-Wan's chamber. Stepping inside, he let the city
glow of Coruscant light his way. Crossing to Obi-Wan's bed, he stood quietly
and looked down at his sleeping Padawan.

As always, Obi-Wan slept with her
back to the room, as close to the wall as she could get. Her Padawan braid
trailed across the pillow.

[Everything has changed for my Padawan,
except for that braid,] Qui-Gon realized. Kneeling beside the bed, he laid
a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I owe you an apology, Obi-Wan,"
he whispered, hoping that the Force would carry this apology into her dreams.
"I was insensitive and intrusive this evening. You may walk before me in any
state you desire. I will accept it, and count myself lucky that you are before
me at all. Rest well, my Padawan."

Chapter Two

The next morning, Obi-Wan made sure
she was up before her Master. Streaking into the refresher at least an hour
ahead of Qui-Gon, she showered and was fully clothed and meditating quietly
by the time Qui-Gon got up.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan," came the
familiar low voice, intruding upon her non-thoughts. If that voice was more
hesitant this morning than it had been on other mornings, well, Obi-Wan knew
that she had no one to blame but herself after last night's scene.

Rising from the meditation, she
offered a formal bow before opening her eyes. "Good morning, Mas--"

Qui-Gon acknowledged the greeting
with a slight bow of his own before turning away, but Obi-Wan never got the
rest of the word out. Her mind was too busy shrieking, [Sith take it, he's
naked and dripping from his own shower!]

Blushing furiously, she couldn't
stop staring at the long, lean lines Qui-Gon presented for her inspection.
[Well, I guess that the same rules don't apply to him as they do to me.]

Only now, as her Master strode majestically
through the apartment and back into his chamber, did Obi-Wan come even halfway
close to understanding Qui-Gon's agitation of the night before. With muscular
legs that were much longer than any man's had the right to be, damp tendrils
of clean hair clinging across his broad shoulders, and well-defined muscles
moving easily beneath the planes of his back, Qui-Gon was magnificent. Obi-Wan's
new hormonal makeup hastened to communicate that fact to her, complete with
suddenly clammy palms, curling toes, and lungs that suddenly didn't want to
breathe for her any longer.

[Why didn't I ever see him like
this before?] Obi-Wan wondered, even as the delicious fire began coiling through
her again. [He's nowhere near me, not doing a thing, and I feel this way about
him?] She shivered, never mind that the room was warm with the morning sun.

Returning to the living area, Qui-Gon
stopped in front of Obi-Wan, who was still standing vaguely down at the edge
of her meditation mat. "Padawan, would you mind cutting my hair?"

"Uh... sure. After you." Blinking
up at him almost stupidly, she gestured toward the 'fresher.

Qui-Gon walked serenely enough before
Obi-Wan, even as he usually walked serenely before her in his Jedi robes.
But oh, what a difference was made by the lack of a few layers of austere
clothing. Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan came to realize that it was a difference
that really made no difference.

[When he's clothed and walking in
front of me, I know that I'm safe, and I feel proud to be with him. But when
he's like this and the walk is the same, the man inside is the same, and I
know that I love him. I want to touch him, make him aware of how I feel.]

[Is that how he feels about me?
Is that what he was trying to tell me last night? Is he trying to teach me
something? Again? Still?]

[Probably,] she decided, joining
Qui-Gon in the 'fresher and taking the scissors Qui-Gon offered in the palm
of his hand.

The two of them had been through
this ritual so often over the years, the Master turned without prompting to
face the wall and offer Obi-Wan clear access to his hair. Smiling slightly
to remember earlier years when Obi-Wan had been so short that she'd had to
sit on the edge of the tub so that she could reach his Master properly, Obi-Wan
retrieved Qui-Gon's comb and worked to gently untangle his mane. Once Obi-Wan
actually had her hands on him, the fire inside her retreated to smolder happily
in the background.

"How much do you want me to cut
off?" she asked, already dreading the answer.

"Two inches."

"Master--" she protested, running
her fingers through it. "Only one inch, surely. Can't you let it grow just
a little longer?"

Sighing deeply, Qui-Gon turned his
head and peered down at her from the corner of one very blue eye. "How many
times have we had this conversation over the years? Any longer, and it is
a danger. To us both."

Which translated to, 'If I am blinded
by hair, I cannot defend myself or you.'

"I know. But that doesn't stop me
from wishing it weren't so. You have beautiful hair, Master."

"So do you."

"Not like this."

Combing through the strands once
more, Obi-Wan snicked the scissors in a silent, pre-arranged signal that her
Master should look straight ahead and stand very still. Qui-Gon did so, and
Obi-Wan snipped slowly, carefully, determined to get it right. Trimming in
a slight half-circle, she made certain that the ends were an even length,
even as they flowed across Qui-Gon's broad shoulders. Checking her work, one
side against the other, she finished by snipping a few stray hairs, then spread
her hand across Qui-Gon's back.

"All done."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

She could feel Qui-Gon's voice rumble
through the palm of her hand. So small was the 'fresher that the Master couldn't
get around Obi-Wan to exit, but had to wait for her to return the scissors
to their assigned place in the cabinet. And so Qui-Gon loomed over Obi-Wan,
as protective and comforting a presence as he'd ever been.

Folding her hands in formal supplication,
Obi-Wan faced Qui-Gon and bowed his head. "I'd like to apologize for my behavior
last night."

"It is I who owe you an apology,
Obi-Wan."

"I don't believe so. I think I better
understand, this morning, why my own lack of clothes disturbed you last night."
His gaze flickered briefly to Qui-Gon's manhood, hanging heavy and inviting
between his thighs.

A long silence met her announcement.
And then, "Obi-Wan, please look at me."

She did, with reluctance.

Qui-Gon offered a wry smile. "Your
Master can be a very stuffy, unamusing old man sometimes."

"You're not!"

"Last night, I was. We're both human,
with all of the passions, emotions, and reactions that implies. We've been
together far too long to let something so elementary as our being naked come
between us. If you will trust me not to judge you so harshly again, I will
trust you to walk any way you wish before me. And, for the record, there has
never been a time -- no matter the body you were in -- when I have not wanted
to look at you. You were a handsome man, Obi-Wan. And you've become a beautiful
woman."

She felt her mouth drop open in
surprise, but had the foresight to close it before trying to assemble an answer.
"I... er... Thanks. You really mean his, don't you?"

"I do."

Qui-Gon waited serenely for his
Padawan's next reaction. Even as Obi-Wan wanted to say something or do something
to thank him, she couldn't think of a proper response. As for Qui-Gon, he
seemed contented to stand trapped in the 'fresher with Obi-Wan blocking his
way for as long as she liked.

"Would you like me to dry your hair?"
she offered impulsively after a long, awkward moment. [Where the hell did
*that* come from?] Still, it didn't sound like too bad an offer.

Reaching over Obi-Wan's head, Qui-Gon
retrieved the dryer and handed it to her. Turning, she walked out of the 'fresher
and into Qui-Gon's sleep-room. Reaching the bed, she turned, expecting to
find Qui-Gon close behind, only to discover that he'd stopped to retrieve
a hand towel, a small mirror, and even smaller pair of scissors.

Padding into the bedroom, Qui-Gon
sat on the edge of the bed, spread the towel across his lap, and raised an
eyebrow when Obi-Wan didn't immediately apply herself to the damp hair.

Dropping the tie onto the blanket
for safekeeping, Obi-Wan climbed up behind Qui-Gon before running a wide-toothed
through his hair and turning on the dryer. Tossing aside the comb, she used
her fingers to massage her Master's scalp, going ever so gently so as not
to disturb him as he trimmed his beard. Ever the fastidious Master, Qui-Gon
made certain that the trimmings fell onto the towel in his lap, rather than
onto the bed or on the floor.

Finishing before Obi-Wan did, Qui-Gon
folded up the towel and set the mirror aside. Closing his eyes, he leaned
into his Padawan's caress. "That feels so good, Obi-Wan."

Increasing the pressure, she shut
off the dryer, but didn't stop massaging.

"You're tense even before the day
has begun," Obi-Wan accused, letting her fingers work down Qui-Gon's neck,
across the rock-hard muscles at the top of his shoulders.

"You know that I've never enjoyed
Council meetings very much."

"I can't see why not. After all,
it's not as though they try to ferret out our every opinion and disagree with
them. It's not as though, next time, they'll send us off to complete some
piece of dirty work that they'll criticize even more."

The droll delivery made Qui-Gon
smile.

Brushing out Qui-Gon's hair, which
was now totally dry, Obi-Wan impulsively segregated a thin length of hair
at the nape of his neck. Separating the hair into three strands, she began
braiding furiously, wondering if she could actually get away with this.

Qui-Gon turned his head slightly.
"What are you doing?"

"Your hair's very fine. I've run
into an especially difficult snarl." [Please don't pick up the mirror,] Obi-Wan
begged silently, even as she pushed aside the rest of Qui-Gon's mane, which
left room to work and exposed the love braid she was making.

Reaching the end of the braid, Obi-Wan
quickly, viciously pulled the flexible thread from the end of her own Padawan
braid. There would be time later to get another thread before the braid unraveled.
Working one-handed and not wanting to let go Qui-Gon's newly created love
braid for fear she'd lose it in the rest of his hair and have to go digging
-- which action Qui-Gon would really question until Obi-Wan had no choice
but to confess what she'd been trying to do -- Obi-Wan managed to stretch
out the thread and wrap it around the newly created braid.

[There. That ought to hold it. Wonder
how long it will take him to discover it's there?]

"Got it," she announced, setting
the braid aside before brushing quickly through the rest of Qui-Gon's hair
and gathering the appropriate amount to pull it back and fasten it as he always
wore it. A final brush through the entire mane and it was done -- with the
new love braid hidden safely behind the Master's left ear. [Unless you already
know it's there, you won't notice it. I hope.]

Still kneeling behind Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan
impulsively threw her arms around the man's broad shoulders. "You feel so
good to be near. You smell good, too."

"Mmmm. And your beard is soft."
She rubbed back against it, enjoying the rasping sound it made, and tightened
hers arms around Qui-Gon's neck. "My transition can't be easy for you, either.
You know that I love you, don't you, Master? Thank you for being so patient
with me."

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon stop breathing,
and wondered if she'd spoken out of turn. Not daring to draw breath, not daring
to move, she waited for his response.

Slowly, Qui-Gon's big hands came
up to wrap themselves around Obi-Wan's wrists. Warm and gentle, those strong
hands could destroy the most bitter enemy as well as caress the most fragile
tear from Obi-Wan's cheek.

Softly, he rumbled, "I love you
too, my Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's world righted itself.
Smoothing Qui-Gon's hair back to the tie, she dared to kiss his forehead.
Letting her nose drift back down to her Master's ear, she breathed softly
into it. Qui-Gon caught his breath sharply when his apprentice kissed his
beard, just where it began at his jaw.

"You're such a strange mixture of
rough and soft," Obi-Wan murmured. "I guess most men are. Strange, how I've
never noticed before." With a final tug on his hair, she slid off of the bed.
"I guess I should let you get dressed."

Turning to exit the room, Obi-Wan
found herself caught by a long arm around her wrist.

"Wait," Qui-Gon whispered, his blue
eyes urgent with need.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in inquiry,
only to be brought to stand between Qui-Gon's legs. Pulling his Padawan closer,
Qui-Gon spanned Obi-Wan's waist with his fingers, turned his head and leaned
his cheek against her stomach.

Hesitantly, not knowing what to
make of this gesture, Obi-Wan slid her arms around Qui-Gon's broad shoulders
and hugged tightly. Her Master released the anxious breath he'd been holding,
and Obi-Wan felt the tension drain out of him.

"It'll be all right," Obi-Wan murmured
instinctively, her words as low and elegant and soothing as they'd been before
her transformation. Running her fingers through Qui-Gon's hair, she continued,
"We've done nothing wrong this time, Master. Between the two of us, we can
handle the Council."

"I fear that it will not be pleasant
for you, Obi-Wan. Just as this entire mission was not pleasant for you."

"It's only a moment in time, Master.
We'll present our report, they'll ask me questions, you'll state your conclusions,
and then it will all be over."

Calm confidence washed through the
bond from Padawan to Master. Qui-Gon tightened his grip on Obi-Wan, soaking
up his Padawan's calm as a cat soaks up sunshine on a winter's day. Clinging
to it, craving it, he stored it in his heart in preparation for when they
had to stand so close and yet so far apart in the Council Chamber.

Leaning over, Obi-Wan nuzzled impulsively
once more at her Master's ear. "We're together, Master, so it *will* be all
right."

"Yes."

Hugging tightly and fiercely, Obi-Wan
realized suddenly that even strong Jedi Masters could suffer from hidden,
unspoken fears. The Padawan held the Master for a long time, until Qui-Gon
felt able to let go of Obi-Wan physically and still carry her strength inside
of him.

Chapter Three

Pacing a careful three steps behind
her Master as usual, Obi-Wan left the hood of her cloak up as they traversed
the corridors of the Temple on their way to the Council chambers. When Qui-Gon
cast her an inquisitive glance, obviously wondering if she was still feeling
shy about her appearance, she murmured, "I'm savoring the privacy. Once this
meeting is over, there's probably not going to be much left for either of
us."

"Agreed."

From Qui-Gon's expression, he didn't
look like he was looking forward to the attention, either. The Padawan population
would undoubtedly descend upon Obi-Wan, but as the Master of the transformed
apprentice, Qui-Gon would have to deal with the endlessly curious Masters.

Qui-Gon leaned down to address the
cloaked figure at his side. "Perhaps we should confer later and decide how
much you wish to reveal to strangers?"

"Sounds good to me." From her scathing
tone of voice, Obi-Wan left no doubt that she wouldn't want to reveal much.

For the first time in Obi-Wan's
memory, she and her Master did not have to wait an hour in the receiving room
of the Council Chambers, but were ushered straight before the quorum the moment
they arrived. Bowing her head, Obi-Wan smiled grimly to herself, knowing all
too well how eager everyone had to be to see her.

[If you think I'm just going to
waltz in here and show off, let you stare and prod Qui-Gon as well as at me...
You can just forget it. It's *my* transformation, *my* body, and I'm controlling
this encounter. With a lot of help from my Master, of course.]

"Gathered, we have, to explore the
rumors of your apprentice's transformation," Yoda began gently, as if sensing
Obi-Wan's uneasiness at being forced to reveal something so very personal.

"I beg to inform the Council that
it is more than rumor," Qui-Gon began in a voice so quiet, that, except for
Yoda -- whose ears caught everything -- everyone seated around them had to
lean forward to catch his words. "Our mission to Sarsden was a success. As
a reward for that success, the king offered us what his handmaiden referred
to as a gift. We stand before you to show you what, exactly, that gift consisted
of."

Turning slightly, he focused the
Council's attention on Obi-Wan, who pushed back the hood of her cloak. Her
expression was an exacting study in neutrality as murmurs of dismay and amazement
traversed the circle.

Mace Windu gestured a tight circle.
"Please turn, Padawan, so that all may see this transformation."

"Take off your cloak, first," added
Yoda.

Shrugging out of it, Obi-Wan draped
it over one arm.

Yoda shook his head. "We must see
all of you, Padawan Kenobi."

Qui-Gon closed the distance between
them to take Obi-Wan's cloak. Worried blue eyes met gray-green.

[Are you all right with this?] Qui-Gon
asked silently.

[I'll have to be, won't I?]

Leaving Qui-Gon's side, Obi-Wan
walked a wide circle around the chamber. Meeting every member's gaze in their
turn, she challenged them to... what? Not even she was certain.

[To treat me with respect, certainly.
Not to laugh, absolutely. To maintain my dignity, my serenity, without their
help or interference. 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' Well, you're
going to see that *this* Padawan has made his... er, her... peace with the
situation and is living in the present. 'There is no passion, there is serenity.'
Yep, that's me. So what are you going to make of it?]

The dark-haired beauty called Depa
Billaba smiled encouragement as Obi-Wan reached her. Holding out a hand, she
murmured, "Could you come here for a moment, Padawan Kenobi?"

She rose as Obi-Wan did as she was
bid. Slender fingers touched her face, exploring the bones.

"Whatever method they used to do
this," Depa announced to the Council, "the physical results are flawless."
Taking Obi-Wan's hands in hers, she studied his frame before addressing Qui-Gon.
"From your observations, are the changes limited to the physical?"

Folding his arms, Qui-Gon shook
his head. "Obi-Wan's emotions have been affected as well, though I suspect
those, too, are related to the physiological changes. His emotions often seem
to be driven hormonally, as I believe is common with the human female."

Depa nodded understanding, while
Obi-Wan wondered, [What does that mean?]

[It means that you are more emotional
as a woman, Padawan. Subject to the whims of the female cycle of hormones.]

[Oh. So that's why I want to cry
all of the damned time. Why I get upset sometimes at the drop of a saber for
the least little thing.]

[It would seem so.]

[You're having to put up with quite
a lot from me, aren't you?]

[Remember that I love you, Obi-Wan.
I most certainly do not 'put up' with any part of you.]

"Do you feel that this gift was
meant as an attack?" Mace Windu asked.

"No, sir," said Obi-Wan. "It was
presented as an honor. However dubious." Quickly, she related the circumstances
surrounding the actual change, even as Depa wandered around her, mentally
cataloguing the changes.

"Strange way for someone to express
their gratitude," muttered Windu. Leaning forward, he stared at Obi-Wan in
a way she was finding most uncomfortable.

[He looks like he's hungry, and
I'm dinner.]

"What of future delegations to the
planet?" Mace asked Obi-Wan. "Will they run into offerings of the same...
gifts?"

The Padawan shrugged. "Who can tell?
Again, Master Windu, this was meant as a reward for my Master's serving them."

"Yet they did nothing to you, Master
Jinn?"

"I was scheduled to be in conference
with the king. When this was pointed out, the handmaiden was agreeable that
the gift was to be bestowed upon my Padawan. With hindsight, it occurs to
me that perhaps they planned it that way."

Obi-Wan returned to her Master's
side as Depa completed her delicate inspection. Unobtrusively, the apprentice
glided up to stand a little closer to Qui-Gon than was their usual custom
before the Council.

"Whatever gift they had chosen to
bestow on either of us, we could not have refused it," Qui-Gon pointed out,
turning slightly to welcome Obi-Wan beside him.

"Result of that would have been
death," acknowledged Yoda. "What sort of gifts have they in store for future
visitors, hmm?"

"Did you ask why the gift was given?"
Windu asked, his gaze still fastened upon Obi-Wan.

"That was taboo according to their
custom."

Yoda offered a sympathetic smile,
his eyes softening as they crinkled at the corners. "Sorry we are on your
behalf, young Padawan, for this transformation. Changed back, would you wish
to be?"

"Of course, my Master." Obi-Wan
offered a slight bow. "But the chances of that are very small, I suspect."

"The Council will explore the possibilities,"
Mace assured, steepling his fingers. "Future delegations will be warned, and
we will send a formal notice to the planet saying that these changes are not
acceptable by our custom."

"Warned, all visitors must be. This
will not be allowed to happen again. Help Obi-Wan, however, this does not,"
Yoda admitted. "Master Qui-Gon will continue to guide you. A better Master,
you could not have."

Obi-Wan stepped closer to the man
under discussion and stole a quick, smiling glance up at him. "I'm well aware
of that, Master Yoda. If it wasn't for Master Qui-Gon....."

Shrugging, she spread her hands
before him, hoping to convey what words could not.

A warm, heavy hand came to rest
across her shoulder. "Obi-Wan is handling the transition well. Already, we
have begun the training necessary to accommodate her. I am pleased with his
progress thus far."

"We look forward to watching you
in competition," said Mace, an eager glint in his eyes.

"You may have to wait some time,
sir," Obi-Wan said, almost with alacrity at her ability to deny this particular
Jedi Master something. "I doubt that I'll be ready to make a public spectacle
of myself anytime soon."

[But what a beautiful public spectacle
it would be,] Windu's expression said.

Qui-Gon's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's
shoulder.

"We thank you for your report,"
said Yoda. "The Force be with you, young Kenobi, as you adjust to your transformation."

Bowing his respect, Obi-Wan went
to follow her Master from the Chamber, but halted when Qui-Gon sidestepped
to approach Mace Windu.

"Could I speak with you privately
for a moment?" Qui-Gon murmured.

Without waiting for the Councilman's
answer, Qui-Gon stalked out of the room. Obi-Wan followed quickly in his wake,
lest the Council think of more awkward questions to ask. Feeling rather than
seeing Windu's surprise at Qui-Gon's unexpected request, Obi-Wan knew that
the man was following them both out into the receiving area.

Turning abruptly and without warning,
Qui-Gon reached out to steady Obi-Wan when she would have ploughed into him.
A tilt of his head, a quick squeeze of his apprentice's shoulder, and Qui-Gon
sent Obi-Wan safely behind him. Given the "Me Master, you Padawan," glint
in his eye, Obi-Wan obeyed that command without hesitation. That particular
expression was usually reserved for times of great danger outside the Temple
walls. She most remembered it from years before, when she'd been smaller,
younger, and less able to defend herself at Qui-Gon's side.

"You wished to speak in private,
Qui-Gon?"

"I did." Qui-Gon's quiet voice was
in direct contradiction to the animosity Obi-Wan sensed was seething just
beneath the surface. "You have been less than subtle in your attraction to
my apprentice."

Windu's jaw slackened in surprise,
but Obi-Wan could feel the truth of her Master's words. "Qui-Gon-"

[So *that's* why his staring made
me feel so twitchy in there,] Obi-Wan realized. [There's so much that I totally
miss in this new body, but Qui-Gon seems to pick right up on it. How does
he *do* that? I'm still worrying about the situation, trying to figure it
out, while he's already in there dealing with it.]

"Right now, your interest is manifesting
itself only in your desire to watch Obi-Wan. Unfortunately, you were also
instrumental in informing certain members of the Council -- in an untimely,
totally unofficial and inappropriate manner -- of private matters regarding
events affecting my Padawan. You also showed a blatantly selfish disregard
for traditional Jedi training methods by invading our practice session yesterday
afternoon."

Shoving back the edges of his cloak,
Qui-Gon stretched to his full majestic height -- about four inches taller
than Windu. Placing his hands on his belt, Qui-Gon took a step forward. Windu
took a step back. Circling around the two men, Obi-Wan sought a better view
than the one offered at her Master's back.

"I am speaking with you now in an
effort to ensure that your interest goes no further," the Jedi Master said
softly. "The caress of your eyes will not evolve into a caress of another
kind -- do I make myself clear?"

Qui-Gon's hand rested lightly upon
the hilt of his lightsaber. The implication was clear.

"I woudn't--"

"Quite right. You wouldn't. Have
I your promise, then?"

Windu's gaze flickered briefly from
Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan. It was one thing to discover yourself desiring an imminently
attractive young Padawan whose fire you'd always admired, who now possessed
a fresh feminine beauty, the likes of which you'd -- literally -- never seen
before. It was quite another thing to discover that the Master protecting
the beauty was quietly snarling in your face, as fierce and possessive as
any Velde lion prepared to fight for its mate.

[Jinn has the power, strength and
determination to back this up right here, if need be,] Windu realized, [and
he will if I don't make the right noises.]

Glancing back at Qui-Gon, Windu
caught sight of something just beneath the Master's left ear. [What the--]

Squinting slightly, Windu focused
on the thing and realized it for what it was: hidden deep in the strands of
Qui-Gon's mane was a miniature version of the Padawan braid. [There's absolutely
no way that Qui-Gon put that there himself. Which leaves only one other person
who'd dare try it. And one reason why they'd want it there.] It was all Windu
could do to keep from grinning at Obi-Wan over Qui-Gon's shoulder. [The little
lioness lies down with her mate; who am I to try to come between that?]

Backing up another two steps, Windu
raised his hands in simple surrender and grinned. "You have my promise, Master
Jinn. Your apprentice is safe from me."

Backing even further away from Qui-Gon,
as if he didn't want to chance turning his back on the Jedi Master, Mace Windu
activated the doors leading back into the Council Chamber. Qui-Gon didn't
move until the Councilman was well away, with the doors sliding closed behind
him.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured softly.
"I think."

Still, Qui-Gon didn't relax. Turning
his head, he regarded Obi-Wan, who noted that his jaw was set, the look in
his eyes was still fierce.

[He's definitely more warrior than
diplomat right now,] she realized. [Best to be cautious.]

"I don't believe that I could have
handled that myself, Master," she ventured softly, daring to close the distance
between them and lay her hand on Qui-Gon's arm. [Calm... The danger is gone
now.] "I didn't even realize he wanted me."

Qui-Gon gave a slight smile that
didn't reach his eyes. "You're used to being the predator, Obi-Wan. Not the
prey. But no matter; you shouldn't experience any trouble from that quarter."
Turning, he bowed slightly and gestured his Padawan before him. "After you."

Not wanting to debate the everlasting
issue of 'Who goes first: the Master or the Apprentice?' Obi-Wan did as she
was bid. Moving from the Council chambers and out into the corridor, she then
moved aside and slowed momentarily to let her Master step up beside her.

"Are you ready to build another
lightsaber?" Qui-Gon asked companionably, shedding his fierce mood as easily
as he would shed his cloak.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan's eyes shown
with what could only be called reserved glee. Fighting with the wrong-sized
saber was like fighting while wearing the wrong-sized shoes: too little and
it could hurt a lot; too big and if she blundered, she could die. Given the
new strategies she was determined on trying later in the day, a perfect fit
was an absolute necessity.

"We're not going to the student
lab?" she asked when Qui-Gon led her past the lengthy Temple corridor leading
across the concourse and into the Jedi Academy.

"I have somewhere else in mind."

Chapter Four

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan into a Temple
tower that she'd never seen before, over to a bank of elevators and downward.
Deep into the new tower they went, past checkpoints near which Obi-Wan knew
she wouldn't have been allowed to breathe without Qui-Gon. Nodding briefly
at each guard, her Master was silently allowed entrance, with only the occasional
raised eyebrow offered to question the presence of the apprentice at his side.

Subdued lighting, like that in Qui-Gon's
own chambers, replaced the hard white light Obi-Wan was accustomed to. Austere
decor gave way to more elegant furnishings; a tapestry from Jykstra here,
a sculpture gifted from Naboo there. Branching off of the main corridor they
traveled were small meditation gardens, complete with benches, fountains and
windchimes, offering total privacy in every atmosphere a Jedi Master could
want.

"It's beautiful here," she whispered
to Qui-Gon, and then caught the disapproving eye of another Jedi Master who
was sitting on one of the hallway's benches and glowering as though Qui-Gon
were escorting a particularly nasty kind of insect past him.

"I suppose it is." Qui-Gon offered
the disapproving Master a respectful nod before sliding a hand across Obi-Wan's
shoulders and guiding her closer to him.

Opposite the gardens, an ancient
and very out-of-place wooden door was ensconced in a steelite wall. Punching
an access code into the pad beside the door, Qui-Gon lifted the black iron
latch and shoved his weight against it. The door swung back slowly, with Qui-Gon
ushering Obi-Wan inside as yet another, passing Jedi Master shot them a questioning
glower.

"Are you sure it's all right for
me to be here?" Obi-Wan whispered, noticing that the door Qui-Gon was now
closing was about four inches thick. [Where did that thing come from? And
how long has it been here?]

"As long as I am with you, Padawan,
you are welcome anywhere in the Temple," Qui-Gon murmured, closing the door
while Obi-Wan waited in the small, dark corridor beyond.

"That's not what five pairs of Jedi
Master eyes told me on the way here."

"You no longer look like yourself,
Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon reminded her. "The Masters we have encountered no doubt
suspect that I have led a stranger into their sacred corridors. Either they
will soon learn of your transformation and your identity, or I will deal with
their comments later."

He sounded casual and unconcerned,
and Obi-Wan suspected that she should take Qui-Gon at his word. [He'll handle
it,] she concluded. [Probably with the same icy calm as he handled Mace Windu.]

"It's not yet general knowledge
what's happened to you," Qui-Gon continued, leading the way down the narrow
corridor, past a string of solid grey steelite doors. "If I visited the Academy
lab with a beautiful young woman and we constructed a lightsaber together,
you know that the students would talk." Pausing at a particular door, Qui-Gon
wrapped a finger around Obi-Wan's braid and tugged gently, teasing. "Especially
if I address the beautiful young woman as Obi-Wan, or if she calls me Master."

"I see your point."

Obi-Wan eyed the brass nameplate
on the door her Master was keying open. *Qui-Gon Jinn,* it read.

The lights came up as she stepped
across the threshold, only to stop dead. Eyes widening with startled delight,
she breathed, "Oh... wow."

Behind her, Qui-Gon chuckled softly.
"Would you mind taking a mere two more steps into the room, please?"

"Sorry." Obi-Wan did as she was
asked, allowing Qui-Gon's broad frame entrance as well. Turning in place,
she surveyed the small, very private lab.

"Wow..." she whispered again, gazing
on a spotless workbench, a wall full of top-of-the-line tools, and a storage
cage containing row upon row of raw parts and the supplies necessary to do
everything from building a service droid to outfitting a hyperdrive.

Standing before a wall panel, Qui-Gon
punched a button. To the left of the workbench, an accordian shield folded
neatly up into the ceiling. A clear glass window was revealed, which looked
out onto a private ship's hangar. The view afforded was all too familiar to
Obi-Wan -- except that she'd always seen it from another angle, when she and
her Master had entered through the arched entry at the other side of the quadrant
housing their quarters. Before the window was Qui-Gon's personal starship,
the *Marauder.* She sat, sleek and blue and elegant in her private berth,
patiently awaiting her Master's pleasure.

"Nice view," Obi-Wan observed dryly.
"Now I know how you always managed to so quickly come up with those replacement
parts you wanted me to install." Shaking her head, Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon,
who'd come to join him before the window. "I can't believe that you've brought
me here to build a lowly apprentice's lightsaber."

Qui-Gon shrugged out of his cloak,
set it on a peg beside the door. "My lab is meant to be used, Obi-Wan."

"Yeah, but--"

"But what?" Qui-Gon reached for
Obi-Wan's cloak even as he waited patiently for his Padawan to put the words
together.

"I feel... so... *unworthy* of this."

"The lightsaber you make will not
be." Setting Obi-Wan's cloak atop his own, Qui-Gon called out, "Theron, attend."

Immediately, a pit droid leaped
down from the top of the parts cage, unfolded itself, and bounded over to
Qui-Gon. Chattering excitedly, it bowed briefly before unfolding its metal
claws and awaiting its Master's commands.

"We're building a lightsaber. Bring
the necessary parts, including a set of at least five smaller casings from
which we will choose. You'll have to visit exterior Stores to get the casings,
as those we have on hand are too big."

A series of enthusiastic whistles
met that command.

"Carry on, then."

Grabbing a lab tray, the pit droid
threw back the door of the storage cage and began digging into the first series
of boxes.

"Theron huh?" Obi-Wan murmured as
the tray was returned to them, complete with an abundant selection of power
cells, small insulation packets, tiny metal knobs, wiring, and other required
bits and pieces. "A name which translates to, I assume, 'the hunter'?"

Qui-Gon gave a crooked smiled and
gestured for his apprentice to seat herself on one of the stools before the
workbench. "Can you think of a better name for one that fetches and carries?"

Opening a drawer, the Jedi Master
brought forth a set of small screwdrivers, guides and wrenches. "You'll be
needing these, I believe." Taking the stool opposite Obi-Wan, he handed over
the tool set, then leaned back and folded his arms. "You do remember how to
build a lightsaber?"

"If I don't, you can ship me off
to Agricorps." She favored him with a wry grin. "I'd be a pretty sorry apprentice
if I couldn't do this."

"Agreed. Which is why I asked."
Reaching down, he tugged on her braid again.

Obi-Wan rubbed the side of his head.
"Master, I wish you wouldn't do that. You know it's not a leash, and it's
annoying."

"Which is why I do it. Here are
your casings, I believe."

Theron plunked another tray between
Master and Apprentice. Metal rattled against metal, with the skeletal cylinders
gleaming spotlessly up at them.

"Doesn't look much like a lightsaber
to me." She frowned, then intoned solemnly, "And so it begins. Query One:
Is Jedi Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi capable of selecting his... pardon me, her...
hilt casing without the expert advice of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn? We'll keep
you informed."

"Sarcasm does not become you, my
Padawan."

"Consider it revenge for your abusing
my braid."

Rolling the first casing back and
forth in the tray, she didn't even bother picking it up. The two beside it
were inspected more closely, only to be rejected as well. As were the remaining
two.

"Are there any others where these
came from?" Obi-Wan plaintively asked the pit droid, who simply stared up
at her, non-comprehending. "Huh. I guess you only take instruction from our
Master. Sort of like me?"

"What, exactly are you looking for?"
asked Qui-Gon, a faint warning in his voice. While the aesthetic look of a
lightsaber was important, it wasn't important enough to send a droid endlessly
scouring the Temple supplies for just the right design.

"I want one that looks like yours."

Startled silence met that announcement.
After a long moment, Qui-Gon murmured, "You could have said so in the first
place, Padawan."

Snatching the tray of rejected casings,
the droid bounded off. Less than two minutes later, it returned with
the new ones. Obi-Wan hefted the smallest, only to find it was too small.
In the end, she settled on the 26-gauge casing.

"You can always refit it later it
you do not like it," suggested Qui-Gon. "I'll keep the larger one on hand,
just in case."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured, sounding
distracted as she had already turned her attention to cracking open the casing
and fitting insulation around the new diatium power cell.

Moving aside the belt ring, she
took the grounding wire Qui-Gon offered and attached it to the metal ring
as a safety precaution. *She* wouldn't be the one to accidentally -- make
that stupidly -- short out the power cell and delicate crystals before they'd
even had the chance to perform.

Crouching over the casing and all
but blocking Qui-Gon's supervisory view so that he had to inch his stool closer,
Obi-Wan installed the insulation, diatium cell, dual plasma-pack and necessary
wiring to connect the three.

Qui-Gon noticed that his apprentice
had a habit of sticking her tongue out between her teeth in concentration
while she worked. [A childhood habit? Definitely an endearing one.] Her thigh
to Qui-Gon's thigh, she rubbed against him as she worked carefully for long
minutes beneath her Master's watchful gaze, but seemed oblivious to their
touching. Qui-Gon, however, was not.

"I thought this would be easier
with small fingers," Obi-Wan murmured in a voice that Qui-Gon was only just
beginning to realize was still one of the most seductive he'd ever heard.

"I suspect that it would be easier
only if you were working on a saber whose size matched your original."

Their fingers brushed as Obi-Wan
took the crimpers Qui-Gon offered and began connecting the wires to their
appropriate connectors.

"Blue wire to the blue plasma-house,"
she murmured in that voice -- so soothing when she'd been a man and so lethal
to Qui-Gon's senses now that she was a woman. "Red wire to red plasma-house.
If I do this wrong, I'll reverse the polarity of the gamma flow and the whole
thing will blow up in my hands the first time I turn it on."

"Let's not, shall we?"

"Agh!" Obi-Wan cried out the next
minute, as the tangle of wires absolutely refused to fit alongside their respective
houses within the hilt.

"There's an easier way to do that,"
Qui-Gon observed mildly, holding out his hand for the crimpers. "If I may?"

"Be my guest." Sliding off of the
stool, Obi-Wan stretched to drive the kinks from her back.

Taking the lab tray containing the
lightsaber casing, Qui-Gon settled it before him and carefully set about untangling
the wires. Sliding a companionable arm across her Master's shoulders, Obi-Wan
leaned against him and watched avidly.

"For a big man, you do very delicate
work," she murmured into Qui-Gon's ear.

"Practice," the Master admitted,
without reluctance or embarrassment. "You've no idea how many of these things
I've had to build. Or rebuilt. But never one so small, my Padawan."

Turning his head, Qui-Gon smiled.
Lining up the blue and red wires, he used the crimpers to twist them together,
and then ran them down the center of the casing, which made them fit neatly
between the plasma houses.

"That's an elegant way to do it."
Draped across Qui-Gon's shoulder in her determination not to miss a single
technique or hint that her Master might share, Obi-Wan's cheek caressed his.
Her breasts were crushed against Qui-Gon's shoulder-blades, her breath was
warm on his skin. Obi-Wan's nearness felt so good and so right that Qui-Gon's
body insistently demanded more.

Gritting his teeth, the Jedi Master
focused on the lightsaber. Over the next few minutes, Obi-Wan murmured questions,
observations, and sweet appreciations into his ear, which had the effect of
gently and steadily encouraging his arousal. [If Obi-Wan keeps this up, I'm
going to seduce him within an inch of his life once we're finished here.]

"Why are your hands shaking all
of a sudden?" she asked in all innocence, her breath stirring Qui-Gon's hair
and nearly making him leap off of the bench as his erection swelled another
inch. Or two.

"Fatigue," he drawled, shifting
in discomfort and not believing the excuse any more than his Padawan would.
"I believe it's time you chose your focusing crystals, Obi-Wan."

"Oh, yeah." Instead of backing away
from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan simply leaned harder against him and slid the tray of
supplies closer.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and nearly
moaned when Obi-Wan's left hand caressed the back of his neck in an effort
to maintain her balance. Reaching down, the apprentice dipped her free hand
into the tray. Palming each quartz crystal in its turn, she closed her eyes
and concentrated on its energy.

"These two, I think." She dropped
them into the palm of Qui-Gon's waiting hand.

Staring down at them, the Master
hesitated for a moment, as though lost in thought. Half of him was trying
to tame his massive need so that his fingers would stop shaking; the other
half of him was very soberly considering defying thousands of years of Jedi
tradition concerning the crystals in a Padawan's lightsaber.

"Select a third crystal," he finally
instructed. "A smaller one."

"Another?" Obi-Wan questioned, her
natural voice all but a purr at Qui-Gon's ear. "Master, do I need a blade
that long?"

Qui-Gon winced as Obi-Wan's tone
and its innocent innuendo shot straight between his legs.

"I've never heard of that circuit,"
said Obi-Wan, selecting another crystal as she'd been instructed. "What is
it?"

"Coupled with the third crystal,
it's what makes my lightsaber more powerful than yours. It will let you drive
the blade through the strongest blast door, or through a series of them if
need be." Qui-Gon cast Obi-Wan an ironic look. "It also will prevent your
weapon from expiring underwater. And it has a few more special features we'll
discuss as they come up."

Obi-Wan handed Qui-Gon the third
crystal before resuming her place at her Master's shoulder. "I've heard legends
about that sort of thing. But isn't it against tradition for me to have something
like that until I'm a Master?"

"I care more about keeping you safe
than honoring tradition right now," Qui-Gon murmured as he set the first crystal
low in the power cell housing and the second one just above it. The third,
he placed carefully between the blade-power adjust module and a power vortex
ring sized specifically for its purpose. It was delicate work for such huge
hands, and he was pleased that his fingers were once more steady, no matter
his inner turmoil.

"I am breaking no strict Code ruling,
giving this to you," he said. "I am merely hedging your bets in battle. Still,
it might be wise if neither of us mentions this... enhancement... where Temple
ears may hear."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon shuddered. [By all the gods...
that voice.] His arousal grew. Sliding off of the stool and out of the circle
of his Padawan's arms, he decided that his apprentice could finish his own
lightsaber. "Obi-Wan...."

Obi-Wan frowned at Qui-Gon's desperate
tone, even as the Master brushed a finger down Obi-Wan's throat.

"You might want to give some thought
to changing the timbre of your voice."

Narrowed gray-green eyes locked
into his. "No one's complained before. You've never complained before, so
what's the problem? You used to find my voice very relaxing, and said so many
times."

Knowing there was nothing for it
but to explain in the clearest way possible, Qui-Gon sighed and took on of
Obi-Wan's hands in his. "Your voice is not relaxing me very much right now,
my Padawan."

Guiding that hand beneath the edge
of his tunic and up between his legs, Qui-Gon held it there for a long moment
-- more than time enough for Obi-Wan to feel his ever-increasing need.

Snatching back her hand as Qui-Gon
surged against her palm, Obi-Wan blushed furiously. "The sound of my voice
is enough to do that to you?"

"Yes."

"I... er..." She tangled her hands
through her hair. "Master, do you want me to apologize? By the Sith, I swear
I'll never say another word to you."

Qui-Gon's startled laughter filled
the room. Reaching out, he tugged once more on Obi-Wan's braid. "Making a
man want you is not necessarily a bad thing, Obi-Wan. Rather, it's a power
you possess. One of which you need to be aware, to use as you see fit."

"But if it's all wrapped up in how
I talk, then it's part of me all of the time. I don't mean to arouse you,
Master. I can stop walking around naked in front of you, but I truly don't
know how to talk any other way."

Obi-Wan said it with simple honesty,
in *that voice*. Again. Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon clenched his fists, arched
strongly, and moaned.

Obi-Wan eyed him and offered a sympathetic
grin. "Worse, huh?"

"It's getting there."

She considered her Master's predicament.
"When you kissed me in the training room yesterday, were you wanting to make
love to me then as you do now?"

Obi-Wan thought about that. "Then
why was your wanting me alright in the training room, but not last night,
and not now?"

The question jolted him. "Obi-Wan--"

"Either I somehow make you want
me and it's alright, or it's not alright." Leaning up against the workbench,
she considered the matter. "You're sending mixed signals, Master, and you
can't have it both ways."

That voice, again.

"Padawan, please!" Qui-Gon's own
voice was all but a whisper, pleading for mercy.

"Please, what?" she asked softly,
deliberately using the tone she now knew would affect Qui-Gon so powerfully.
Pushing away from the workbench, she approached with the confident swagger
Qui-Gon knew so well. "Please don't undress before you? Please become a mute?
Or, please, would I acknowledge what you're feeling and give you permission
to act on it? If that's not what you want, then why'd you put my hand... here?"

Reaching both hands beneath the
tunic, Obi-Wan cradled her Master boldly, yet carefully, with one hand above,
one below.

"The nice thing about leggings is
that they're totally form-fitting," Obi-Wan murmured, leaning closer, "beautifully
outlining the target one wishes to impact."

Impact it, she did. Standing stiffly
before his apprentice, Qui-Gon ground his words out between gritted teeth
and let Obi-Wan's hands be there.

"You're quite right, Obi-Wan. I
*am* sending mixed signals, while you are quite simply... feeling... your
way in a strange new world." [Pun intended, young Padawan, and please don't
tease, or you may wish that your lightsaber had exploded in your hands, rather
than me.] You're being yourself, and I'm reacting to that."

Offering a sad, lost smile, Qui-Gon
wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's wrists and gently disentangled her hands.
Bringing them to his lips, he braced them against his chest. The better to
keep them out of trouble.

"I want you because I love you,
Obi-Wan. What you have become affects me as well as you. I can't help reacting
to your nearness, just as you can't help being who you are. That... person...
just happens to arouse me."

Obi-Wan shook her head. "I don't
know how I can change my voice, Master. I'm not even sure I want to try."

"It was wrong of me to ask it. Don't
change who you are, Obi-Wan, for you are truly special whether you're wrapped
in the body of a man or a woman. I have had these feelings for you for a very
long time."

Clenching her hands between Qui-Gon's,
Obi-Wan stared up at her Master. "You've...what?" When Qui-Gon did not elaborate,
but simply looked down at her calmly, Obi-Wan added, "Coming from you, Master,
that's quite an admission."

He shrugged. "Your body has a mind
of its own, my apprentice. Mine does, too. Especially where you're concerned."

"Even when I was *male*?" She sounded
incredulous.

"Even then," Qui-Gon acknowledged.

She shook her head. "I had no idea."

"I never dared to tell you."

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. "Then
it's me you want, and not just the body?"

"It would appear so, as what I feel
is determined to manifest no matter what body you are in. But Obi-Wan, you
are the only man or woman in my life who has made me feel this way. The difference
in our ages, the relationship we have as Master and Apprentice... All argue
against our becoming involved with each other."

"Not unless it became impossible
for me to bury what I feel -- which it appears to have done. My body responds
much more quickly to your nearness, now. And there's the added impulse I feel
to protect you. It's all entwined, Obi-Wan, and while I can control it, I
don't know how to stop it."

She stood silently for a long moment.
"Master, if nothing happens by chance, did it ever occur to you that the Force
may have intended this for both of us? Perhaps I've wound up in this body
specifically so that we can resolve our feelings for each other."

"When the solution presents itself,
don't throw it away?" Qui-Gon ventured. "Do you believe I'm resisting what
I feel when I really don't need to? Are you suggesting that I should act on
my feelings where you are concerned?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "You're still
the Master and I'm the Padawan, so I wouldn't presume to tell you what you
should do, but you're the one who's always telling me to feel, don't think.
If *you* use your instincts, what do they tell you to do where I'm concerned?"

Obi-Wan's eyes held no little exasperation.
"Master, there's nothing you could do to me that I haven't wanted to do, or
haven't already done, with a woman."

Qui-Gon's reply came almost on a
growl. "As you wish, Padawan."

Sliding one arm around Obi-Wan's
waist, Qui-Gon ground her against him in a bone-crushing embrace, so tightly
that the air rushed from Obi-Wan's lungs. Bending over her, Qui-Gon took her
mouth just as she thought, [I can't breathe.]

[I'll breathe for you,] came Qui-Gon's
voice in her mind, companioning his more than obvious physical need. Obi-Wan's
feet left the floor; neither one of them cared. This kiss was nothing like
the probing one they'd shared the day before: Obi-Wan recognized and responded
to the demanding, barely contained arousal Qui-Gon was battling.

[If you stop, I'll scream,] she
warned through their link, being careful to let amusement trickle through
as well, hoping it would diffuse the ferocity of her Master's desire.

Qui-Gon answered on a growl, shuddering
as he devoured Obi-Wan's mouth and moved on to her jaw and her ear. Seizing
her earlobe, Qui-Gon sucked and nuzzled and lapped until Obi-Wan gasped and
arched hard against him.

[So, you like that?] Qui-Gon purred
back through the bond, totally disinterested in calming himself. [If I continue,
my Obi-Wan, you may scream, anyway. I have that affect sometimes.]

[Arrogant....] Obi-Wan shot back
the word even as another thought occurred to her. [Wha... Who? *WHO* have
you had that affect on?] Burying her fingers in Qui-Gon's hair, she yanked.
Hard.

A chuckle rumbled against her. Breaking
the kiss, Qui-Gon smiled down at her. His eyes were the deepest blue Obi-Wan
could ever remember seeing them. Darkened with passion, they left no doubt
that she was wanted.

Qui-Gon arched harder and rubbed,
seeking to increase the friction. Sliding his hands across the small of Obi-Wan's
back, he cupped her hips and tilted them upward, more firmly against him.

Returning Obi-Wan's feet to the
floor, Qui-Gon began kissing her again. Sucking on Obi-Wan's lower lip and
winding his fingers through the short hair, Qui-Gon drove all thought of the
supposed past competition right out of Obi-Wan's mind.

"Gods, but I need you...." Obi-Wan
managed to groan out. Frantic to touch Qui-Gon, she slid her hands beneath
the older man's tunics, scratched through the hair on his chest, and found
a sensitive nipple. Shoving aside the fabric, she fastened hungry lips there.

Qui-Gon was thrusting steadily against
Obi-Wan by now -- instinctive, mindless thrusts that sent Obi-Wan's own desire
spiraling upward to meet him. Releasing his nipple with reluctance, she whimpered.

"Closer -- Master, please? Clothes...off...."
She sounded almost childlike as she struggled with the hateful layers of material.
"Want you."

"Not here," gasped Qui-Gon, breathlessly
feathering kisses along Obi-Wan's temple and lifting her hard against him
once more, for the pure pleasure of feeling her so close and yet so far. His
frustration flooded the link they shared. "Not now. Here...it's all wrong.
You deserve better."

It was Obi-Wan's turn to laugh.
"Master, I don't need candles and wine. I don't want them!"

"Perhaps I do." Returning his Padawan's
feet to the floor, Qui-Gon disentangled her fingers and tried to look stern.
But with his hair in disarray, his lips reddened by their kisses, and his
nipple damp from Obi-Wan's mouth, the Jedi Master failed miserably.

Setting his apprentice well away
from him, Qui-Gon reached for some tattered semblance of control. Watching
him silently for a moment, Obi-Wan realized, [All I have to do is say something
-- almost anything, up to and including asking him the time of day -- and
he'll be writhing for me. For ME. That's pretty special. And pretty scary.
Not a responsibility I ever would have sought.] But she had it now, and would
guard it -- and her Master's vulnerability as he needed Obi-Wan so badly --
with everything she was.

"You're shaking," Obi-Wan observed,
once Qui-Gon had visibly worked through a quick series of exercises to calm
his breathing, and was refusing to look at her.

"You're right." Yanking the hair
tie out of his hair, he stared down at his trembling fingers. "By all of the
hundred tiny gods of Endor, Obi-Wan, what are you doing to me?"

"Loving you," she answered simply.
"You've never lost control with a woman before, have you?"

"No." Growled. "And I don't plan
to start now."

Obi-Wan could feel and see the immense
effort it took for her Master to gather the shreds of his passion-shattered
being, focus in the living Force once again and turn, with courage, to face
his Padawan. The enormity of his desire, screaming for release, made Obi-Wan
realize that, had she never been a man, she wouldn't have understand the immense
control it was taking for Qui-Gon to deal with the situation.

[Were it me in his place, could
I find the same courage and control?] she wondered.

"Would you mind putting this where
it belongs?" Qui-Gon offered up the wayward hair tie.

He knelt for her. Working swiftly,
almost roughly, Obi-Wan finger-combed through the thick strands of hair for
the second time that day and gathered them together beneath their respectable
fastening.

[What is so amazing about this entire
scenario is that *I'm* just fine,] Obi-Wan considered. [Of course I want him,
too. Of course I'm looking forward to our picking up where he left off --
and hopefully soon. But I'm nowhere near the state he's in. I guess it really
doesn't take much to get to a man... any man. They say women react differently,
but I'm just beginning to understand what a drastic understatement that is.]

"All done." Obi-Wan patted her Master
companionably on the shoulder. "I need to finish my lightsaber. Do you want
to wait for me here, or take a walk?"

Rising to his feet once more, Qui-Gon
did not turn around. Gathering his cloak from beneath Obi-Wan's, he announced,
"I am going to the meditation garden just across the hall. The lights here
will extinguish themselves, the door will lock behind you automatically when
you leave. Theron will store himself. When you have finished, you will let
me know?"

"Yes, Master."

Palming the door control, Qui-Gon
sighed deeply and left without a backward glance.